


undergrowth

by iimpavid, voidteatime



Series: Bites and Pieces [3]
Category: Original Work, The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alien Culture, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eldritch Plant Gods, Gen, Gods, Original Mythology, Peter Nureyev's Backstory, Plants, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimpavid/pseuds/iimpavid, https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidteatime/pseuds/voidteatime
Summary: He offers a thieves’ blessing, “May She never discover your ruse.”May those who chase you lose your scent.
Series: Bites and Pieces [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552012
Kudos: 13





	undergrowth

**Author's Note:**

> Just a stand-alone AU that is much less horror-based than related Seer-fic.

A plant wraps around the thief’s ankle in the dark.

The thief climbs the very walls and finds some abandoned shelf to perch upon, heart pounding, straining in the dark to see whether one of the strange pale plants of these long abandoned catacombs has taken root in his skin. 

_Human? Stop?_

He falls off the perch he scrambled onto when they speak through him.

_Can you hear me?_

The thief is only on the ground long enough to regain his feet and climb back out of the strange, pale foliage and onto the shelf he’d found. He crouches there in the dark, straining to hear breathing or movement that isn’t his own. A protected silence rolls out into the pale stillness of the temple. “Yes,” he replies in a whisper.

 _I haven't seen a human down here before. Your kind are surface dwellers._ A few pale vines reach towards the fool on the shelf, curious. They arent awake enough to process hunger, not yet.

Goosebumps break out across his skin. He flicks open a knife; a little, wicked blade that glints in the unlight. “Not quite,” he corrects, “the ground isn’t safe up there either.” He shifts to stand, to inch back as far away from the creeping vines as he can, and feels up the wall for another handhold.

_Think better of using that weapon. I am much faster than She is._

He could leave the cavern the way he came, out of this deep catacomb branch— he could outrun this sentient horror, he was sure, but he liked his odds against municipal drones less. He held the knife out, not knowing where They might be best able to see it from, and flicked it shut. “Alright; you don’t turn me into a flower bed and I won’t cut any ... vines,” he says, unsure of what exactly it is that’s teeming around his ankles but wanting to be careful with his words.

 _I appreciate it, but I am starting to remember what being Hungry is like._ It's just a very gentle gnawing at the back of his neck. _Won't you stay?_

With a jerk he leaps to the floor, back among the delicate flora— the plants don’t have mouths, at least. The knife opens again. “No teeth or no deal,” he says like he has any idea of what he could even attack in retaliation. There’s no fighting the jungle. But this isn’t the jungle. At least he thinks it isn’t. The jungle can’t speak.

 _Ah, if you insist, I'll simply sip_ . The teething sensation retracts and becomes something more of a tentative lick. _It is the least I can do for your cooperation._

He tenses— and doesn’t close the knife. He swallows, feeling cold. Trapped. But there are no hands following the feeling of a soft (and belonging to a creature larger than himself certainly) mouth on his skin, no violence, no teeth. He exhales so slowly it’s almost silent. “I need to find a way out of here,” he says as evenly as he can. “There are people looking for me. Drones.”

 _If you came inside proper they would never be able to find you..._ The entity whispers just as softly, pulling aside vines to reveal an opening into the stone temple. It's impossibly dark inside. _Let them pass and I will show you the way out. I want your name in return. That seems fair._

There are a great many things in the universe he doesn’t believe in— now it seems he’s found one of them. Confronted but not quite face-to-face. “And how do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

_The fact I am bargaining at all._

“That inspires confidence,” he mutters. But it speaks volumes that, by a slim margin, he prefers his odds against the unknown threat to the Guardian Angel System. He steels himself and walks farther into the dark. “And what brings someone like yourself to a place like this?”

They try for a human form, eyes glowing in the darkness. They only see humans from a distance though, so the finer details are off _. I have been here. Before any humans, before She spread all over everything._

It's body-warm inside the temple ruin, and the smell is of meat and oil. The walls, much further away than they seemed from the outside, are wet and springy despite their aged stone look. It's curiously devoid of any plant matter, Brahma or otherwise.

He startles a little at the pairs of eyes that resolve in the darkness— and after them a face, a body. Veined with gold like raw stone and breathing not with their mouth (which was a great seam of gold splitting their jaw) but their whole body. He carefully doesn’t stare. “I... see.” No one has been able to date Brahma. Or communicate with it. That the planet is a single plant is a wives tale— a superstition he held. Until now, apparently. “Were you here when the planet formed or did you find it, too.”

Unable to help himself he reached out to touch a wall. It’s cooler here than anywhere on the surface but the walls are hot to the touch. Like a living body. He drifts his fingertips across them, finding no seams in the stone.

The temple involuntarily shudders, as does the humanoid form watching the fool. _I found it before She did. By the time your species arrival woke me from hibernation, She had grown all over me. It's very rude._

He chuckles, less nervous for the conversation. “ _She_ does that. She’s got strains that have evolved spores that will root to glass— interferes with security relays. New Kinshasa is panicking.”

 _She does not know I am not Her,_ The entity grins wicked sharp teeth, proud of Themself for their deception.

“Ah, the clear plants,” he says, understanding and impressed. He offers a thieves’ blessing, “May she never discover your ruse.”

 _May those who chase you lose your scent._ They pause, listening to the hum of drones outside, pulling vines to conceal Their entrance.

He shivers. Feels as if he’s been given something precious. “Thank you,” it comes out earnest and soft.

It's not completely silent within the Temple, but the quiet is heavy with tension until the sounds of the drones fade. They sigh and relax a bit. 

_Now, I can give you a way out, but I want, no Need your name. I'm so Hungry..._

He swallows. “My name is Peter,” he tells Them anxious again at the prospect of being tricked. “What... else do you eat? I can ... bring you something.”

 _Mostly thoughts and the metaphysical energy that produces them. Sometimes flesh, but not too often...usually only when somebody wanders too far inside my Temple._ They beckon him to follow their Form through an archway at the back of the Sanctuary. _I suggest you hold onto my Form, Peter. It's easy for a human to get lost in Me._

Their answer doesn’t allay his discomfort but he takes Their hand anyway. “Well, I’d prefer to stay off the menu.” Their skin is warm and giving and the spare joints of Their fingers fitting close to the back of his hand. Their skin is smooth. Printless.

They guide him through winding and branching hallways with ceilings that lift just enough so he doesn't hit his head on them (which would undoubtedly be an unpleasant experience for both parties). _I am sated on your name alone. I won't devour you, not today._

Gradually they approach an opening in which some daylight pours in. The area around it is grey and withered and they release Peter's hand so They can stay in Their own dark. 

_A bolt from the sky laid me open here...it is your way out._

The light is blinding. His eyes water even seeing it from a distance. He turns back to Them, squinting into the thick blackness, unable to make out Their eyes any more. Without thinking he asks, “Does that mean you will if I come back?”

 _I cannot speak Untruths. I might, but the reason may not be simply hunge_ r. A pause. _Will you come back?_

“I’d prefer to stay off the menu,” he repeats, cautious, “if I knew you wouldn’t kill or maim me... I might want to.”

Peter wonders briefly if he’s lost his mind entirely. But the deep places of Brahma seem lonely and even spirits need company from time to time. It isn’t unheard of to leave offerings for them in the jungle. What he has in mind is the same thing just... a little stranger.

_Then I will warn you first, so you can run away._

“I’ll come back, then,” he tells Them before he can think about what he’s getting himself into. “I have ... a delivery to make. But I’ll come back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone should probably have warned Peter that making promises to deities, even forgotten ones, can be dangerous, huh?


End file.
